


Always

by Writing_Blues



Series: Its The Little Things [1]
Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Episode 3, Hurt/Comfort, LS3 Spoilers, Light Angst, M/M, Mentions of Character Death, The Grove
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 04:43:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12381126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writing_Blues/pseuds/Writing_Blues
Summary: Sometimes he wished that they're Wyld Hunt had been something else, something simpler.





	Always

Night has already settled by the time he reached the entrance to the Grove.

As usual, the place was relatively quiet, save for the soft chattering of the night bloom Sylvaris. They huddled together, voice soft and blending into the darkness of the night, whispering about poisons and Hylek.

“But they’ll be asleep. What would be interesting about spying on a bunch of sleeping frogs?”

“Yes, you are right. But we are of the night blooms, we’re stronger at night.”

“Well…”

He moved past them, keeping a comfortable distance whilst listening idly to their conversations. It was a silent comfort, hearing his kins speak intensely about such light topics. It reminds him of who he was, where he came from, and the warmth he didn’t realised he’d forgotten.

And it seeped into him, touching the deepest parts of his roots. A comforting bloom, like one would feel when their Mother touches her child’s cheek tenderly.

The thought made him pause before the seed pod that leads to the upper chambers, to the Avatar of the Pale Tree. He could sense her presence, though weak, prodding gently at the empathetic link that he has with her. A small wave of warmth soon followed, and through the link he could almost hear her tender whisper.

_Welcome back to the Grove, my dear son_

“Thank you, Mother.” Sometimes, he likes to think that Mother has her roots connected to every branch and leaf within the Grove. And coming back to walk on the many branch pathways grown by Kahedins felt like a distant embrace from her.

Even so, he didn’t come back to the Grove to wander aimlessly about. He’d come here for only one purpose, and for one Sylvari.

As if reading his thoughts, he could feel the Pale Tree prod gently at their empathetic bond.

_He is at the lower chambers. Asleep. Under the same tree._

Thanking the Pale Tree, he turned and started making his way to one of the paths that leads to the lower chambers. A glider or a seed pod would’ve done the job a lot faster, and a waypoint even faster. But it’d been a while too, for him to have visited the Grove, and he simply wanted to relish in the comforting chatter of his kins, and the soft crunching of roots beneath his feet.

That and he thought, as the home of his pod comes into view, there was simply no rush in things. After all that had happened.

“Melas! You’ve come back! I’m so glad to see you.” A green leafy face popped into view, followed by a pair of large, violet eyes that regarded him with a gentle warmness that could only belong to Kahedins. The firtborn Sylvari already had a large smile stretching his lips.

“Firstborn Kahedins.” He lowered his head respectfully towards the smaller Sylvari, who simply returned a look of amusement before shaking his head gently. “Polite as ever still. How many times have I told you to just call me Kahedins? You’re no longer a sapling, Melasanthos.”

“Yes, but you remain a Mentor to me still.” Returning the smile, he moved to dismiss himself. “It is good to see you again as well, Kahedins. But I’m afraid I’m not here today to talk of my traveling adventures.”

His reply was returned with a look of gentle understanding, though also with a tint of sorrow that causes the elder Sylvari’s violet eyes to darken ever so slightly. “Well, do take some of Lidia’s desserts along, won’t you? It’s made from her own batch of honey bees. She could use some feedback as well.”

Nodding, he bidded the firstborn a farewell after taking a bag of Lidia’s honeyed desserts. Placing them into his traveling bag with the utmost care, he made sure it’s steady before closing the lid over it. And taking the opportunity, Kahedins managed to push a bag filled with leafy blankets and cotton pillows into his arms, before giving a satisfied smile and mouthing a soft _“Please, take care”_ and then shushing him out much to the younger Sylvari’s amusement.

It was a typical habit of Kahedins to fawn and fret over his younger siblings. The firstborn has a heart made of gold, as the humans would describe it. Melomedies was a lucky Sylvari to have him as his beloved.

Going back to his initial task, he proceeded onward, moving past the soft glow of fluorescent flower lights and other Sylvaris. He could already feel the other’s presence, getting stronger the closer he gets, and this encourages him to walk faster. Letting his feet guide him down the path he’d memorised by heart. And he doesn’t stop even when he sees the familiar outline of a tree that’d grown over the years, standing trong and tall.

He steps finally comes to a halt when he’s about a few feet away from a curled up form. Leafy armours the shades of red, green and gold laid out over soft grass as the figure slept, breath soft in his deep nap.

He’d avoided reaching for the other’s empathetic bond when he arrived at the Grove, so as to not disturb the Sylvari from his rest. Mother knows how much he’d been lacking of it lately, if the swell of the flesh petals beneath his closed eyes were anything to go by.

Despite his great efforts to not startle the sleeping Sylvari, the other stirred when he moved to settle down. Green lids slowly lifted up as a pair of eyes focused on him, the usual Amber of the Sylvari’s dulled to a brown, hazy from sleep. A soft smile was offered in greeting, lighting up the otherwise gentle features of the woken Sylvari.

Melasanthos felt his heart swell with love at the sight.

“Taimi told you I’ll be at the grove, didn’t she?” Pushing themselves up into a sitting position, Melasanthos watched with gentle eyes as the other Sylvari pulled into a stretch, gaze lingering on a taut stomach and sharp collarbones.

“Yes, and she also sends us her best regards. And, I quote, ‘please rub some stress out of the Commander while you’re at it won’t cha.’”

A smile stretches his lips when the other Sylvari barked out a laugh, which turned into a snort followed by a soft chuckle. Amber eyes lighting up with mirth at the almost half-hearted attemptーthough he doubt the young Asura was even tryingーof Taimi telling the green Sylvari to ‘work out’ his stress.

“That sounds like Taimi.” Giving another soft chuckle, the other Sylvari scooted closer, resting his back against the tree as he looked skywards. His smile turning softer as a distant look crossed his face.

Melasanthos felt his smile fade along with it.

“Tzafirir,” When the other didn’t look at him, Melasanthos eyes soften, reaching a hand out to place it gently on the green Sylvari’s cheek, “What happened?”

There had always been one reason, amongst the others, that would make Tzafirir visit the Grove. The place was where they step out of the dream, and where the Pale Tree resides. A place of comfort for any sylvari of the dream.

And if the bruised swell of the flesh petals beneath the other’s eyes were the evidence for it, Melasanthos felt his worry grow.

When the other remained silent, Melasanthos felt a frown tug at the corners of his lips. The last time the other had been stuck in silence was after the death of Trahearne.

“My love,” Moving closer, he placed both hands on either side of the green sylvari’s cheeks. Gently lifting the other’s gaze up until he could see them clearly. “Please look at me.”

Once he was sure that the other won’t turn away, he asked the question again. Gentler this time. “What happened?”

Time seem to tick by as the green sylvari looked up at him, lips parting and then closing again. Seemingly at a loss for words before a sigh escaped, broad shoulders sagging in defeat.

“I had an arguement with Braham at Bitterfrost Frontier.” There was a pause as the sylvari collected his thoughts, “We… I…” face scrunching up, he frowned before shaking his head lightly. “He said that I abandoned Destiny Edge behind, and that I was never welcomed to be a part of it. That I,” Another pause. “That I do not care about the life of another.”

Seeing the expression of helpless frustration on the green Sylvari, Melasanthos gaze softened. He gently caressed the distressed sylvari cheekbone, patient as he waited for the other to continue.

“He can’tーhe can’t see that I’m affected by all of these. And that Trahearne and Eir was as dear to me as they were to him. Especially-” Leaning back against the hand, Tzafirir sucked in a soft breath as moments of the argument flashed inside his mind. “There were others that died as well. Pact soldiers, innocents. How could he notー” He could still recall it, the stench of burnt bodies and gun powder. The smothering smell of smoke and explosives when he marched through the jungle. Fear and dread a sickening gurgle within him when Laranthir told him about the missing members of Destiny Edge.

“He can’t see that he is not the only one who left that jungle with more loss than they could handle.” Sighing heavily, he slouched against the tree from the sudden wave of exhaustion that came over him. “I am tired my love,” Closing his eyes, he brought a hand up to curl around the one held against his cheek. “I do not know what to do anymore. Nothing ever seems to be enough. Each loss feels heavier and harder to bear.”

At the sight of his beloved’s pain, Melasanthos heart ached. He pulled the sylvari closer, arms circling a slim waist as he brought the other into an embrace. Sometimes he wished that their Wyld Hunt had been something else, something simpler. What had once been a pride for the green sylvari has turned into the roots of his grieve and sleepless nights. And with each demand of his presence, with each return from a vicious fight, Melasanthos could see it tear at the other’s spirit. Until what was once a victorious smile and gleaming eyes turned into haunted dull brown and tired frowns.

“I’m here.” Tightening his arms around the other, Melasanthos could only hope that the time he was given would be enough to soothe his beloved, before another incident demands his presence again. Deep down he knew it wouldn’t be enough, and it probably never will be. No amount of gentle kisses and soft laughter could wash away the horrors of war and death that Tzafirir’s had witnessed.

But he will try. For Tzafirir, he will do it.

“I’m here.” Shifting their position, he pulled the other sylvari closer until a head of fern was under his chin and a nose was pressing against the crook of his neck. He could feel the other relaxing in his grip, breath deep as he took in the scent of him.

He wasn’t sure how long the other would stay this time, before the duty of a Commander calls for him again. And even with his spirit battered and bruised, he knew Tzafirir will answer to it. Wyld Hunt tugging at his very being.

“How long will you be staying?” Unknowingly, he tightened his grip.

“Two months. I cut off contact with the others.”

“You mean...”

“Yes.” A soft sigh, and then Tzafirir shifted on his lap, his fern tickling against his nose when the other lifted his head up to look at him.

“Except Taimi. Though, it was because she talked me out of cutting her off too.” A wry smile and then a frown as green brows scrunched up, “I just want some peace, and silence. Just some time to-”

“I know, you don’t have to explain yourself love.” Smiling, he placed a hand against the back of the other’s neck, pulling the sylvari closer until their foreheads touch and all he could see was the amber of the other’s eyes.

“Rest. When you wake, we’ll try out the honey desserts made by Lidia.” At the confused blink, Melasanthos laughed and moved to place a quick kiss against soft lips. “Kahedins insisted I took some. And that Lidia could use some feedback.”

“I assume he gave you bag of blankets and pillows as well?”

“Yes. Now rest. You need it.” Placing his hand against the other’s cheek, he gently rubbed the swollen flesh petals beneath an amber eye. Though slightly better than before, the green sylvari still looked haggard and weary.

“I’ll be here.” Spotting the look of fear within amber eyes, Melasanthos squeezed the other’s waist. “Always.”

“Always.” Another soft sigh and Tzafirir moved to rest his cheek against his chest. “Always.”

When the other’s breath finally evened out into another deep sleep, Melasanthos closed his eyes to follow. Thoughts of what he could do for the other in the next two months drifting in his mind.


End file.
